


White Flag

by Kispexi2



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: M/M, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-03
Updated: 2007-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kispexi2/pseuds/Kispexi2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing says 'sorry' quite like a packet of cigarettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Flag

Aya shuffles forward, embarrassed. He's never bought cigarettes before and it feels dirty, pathetic.

"A packet of twenty," he tells the assistant.

"Twenty?" she asks brightly. "Which brand, sir?"

Taking a step to her right and, with an expansive wave of her left hand, indicates a vast wall of shelving, stocked with a bewildering assortment of colours and logos with an expansive wave of her left hand. There are gold boxes, blues boxes, red ones. A camel, an idiot on a horse, a playing card.

Aya's mouth goes dry. He has to make a choice? Aren't they all equally carcinogenic and foul-smelling? Can a hopeless tobacco addict even tell the difference?

"Uh ... _those_," he decides, making a stabbing gesture which, though emphatic, is not very precise.

The assistant throws him a lifeline.

"These, sir?"

Manicured hands with long red nails hold out a white pack embossed with a red disc surrounded by a green circle. _Lucky Strike Original Red_ Aya reads.

He nods decisively.

"Yes. Those."

His armpits are prickling and his palms feel damp. Shit, gutting people is easier than this.

And it's only going to get worse.

He pays, slips the pack into a jacket pocket and hurries from the store out into the mercifully fresh evening air. Although it's a long way, he decides to walk home. He needs time to cool down, to gather himself.

Fortunately, it's Tuesday. Ken will be at football practice and Omi at ... whichever after-school class for disturbingly smart teens has the best view over the soccer pitch. The only one in the house will be Yohji.

Unsurprisingly, he's sprawled on the settee, two empty beer bottles lying on the carpet beside him and a third half-full bottle in hand. He looks up, catches Aya's eye and instantly looks away. Great. He's clearly not planning on making this easy.

A spark of annoyance flares in Aya's chest.

"I'm only going to say this once, Kudoh," he grinds out. "Sorry."

Yohji's head snaps round. For a moment he's speechless, then a slow smile spreads across his face.

"Gonna have to do better than that, Abyssinian," he declares. "Much better."

Aya swallows. It was not _all_ his fault and he won't say it was.

"Here."

He tosses the cigarette pack at Yohji. A deft hand catches it mid-flight. Yohji is on his feet and advancing. Aya swallows again.

"What's this?" Yohji muses and he sounds genuinely intrigued, as if the idea that Aya might have bought him something - something he would actually _want_ \- hasn't yet occurred to him. He reads the label and chuckles. "Ah - so this is a peace offering?"

Aya's jaw clenches. There's only so much contrition he can manage. Yohji had better realize that. He nods. Once.

Yohji moves in closer.

"Original Red, eh?" he grins and catches Aya's hand. "That would be you, right? And lucky, as in getting lucky tonight, would be me, yeah?"

Aya rolls his eyes. Yohji can turn _anything_ into a pick-up line.

"If you want to think that, go ahead," Aya shrugs.

Yohji tucks the pack into the back pocket of his obscenely tight leather trousers and pulls Aya into his arms.

"Good," he smiles, his gaze dropping from Aya's eyes to his lips and lingering there. "Because that's exactly what I want to think." His voice lowers, and now it's all vibrating bass that seems to buzz along Aya's skin. "I've missed you."

Aya tilts his mouth up towards Yohji's, wanting to say "Me too" but it's too hard. And then it's too late, because Yohji is kissing him, kissing him as if they had been mad at each other for weeks, months - not just since breakfast.

Aya feels his body melt into Yohji's.

Kudoh always did have perfect timing.


End file.
